


Dish Water

by bonzai_bunny



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny/pseuds/bonzai_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Francis and Gilbert are left alone to do the dishes, they find more interesting ways to pass their time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dish Water

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little restaurant AU thing I wrote for a friend on LJ. Enjoy. c:

Francis huffs in annoyance and tries to blow strands of hair out of his face because his hands are currently occupied, elbow deep in soapy water. He shoots a glare at his friend, the reason that he is washing dishes, out of the corner of his eye, but Gilbert is too busy drying and stacking the clean plates to notice his aggravation.

“This is all your fault,” Francis accuses Gilbert when he continues to not pay attention to him.

“You just _had_ to see how many soda cans you could fit in the dishwasher, didn’t you?”

Gilbert doesn’t seem the least bit chastised and grins back at him. “Hell yeah! Did you see Kirkland’s face when all those cans exploded?”

Francis allows himself a snicker at that, imagining the irate Englishman’s reaction. It had been pretty funny at the time, even though the new dishwasher would be coming out of both of their paychecks and they have to wash all of the dishes by hand when the restaurant closed until the owner of the restaurant bought a new one. They are currently the only ones there and Francis’s hands are pruning because for some reason, there are no rubber gloves in sight.

“I don’t see why I got punished,” Francis sighs at the state of his hands. “You are the only one to blame.”

“’Cause Kirkland hates your ass,” Gilbert snorts as though it is obvious, “And we’re partners in crime and he knows that!”

That is true. Their boss hated Francis upon eyesight, it appeared, and Francis is sure that the only reason he hadn’t been fired yet is because he is the best pastry chef that Kirkland has ever had. He also hated Gilbert by association.

“Ah, I am sure he is just jealous of my ass,” Francis winks and Gilbert laughs entirely too much for Francis’s enjoyment.

“Yeah, ‘cause you do nothing but flaunt it!”

“I do not!” Francis scoffs, offended, and splashes the dishwater in the other’s direction. Gilbert looks at him, and Francis is suddenly very unsure about the grin slowly spreading across the other’s pale face.  Then Francis shrieks as he abruptly finds a whole lot of water in his face.

“G-Gilbert!” He stutters, enraged, and tries to wipe the soapy water out of his eyes. “You asshole!”

“Yeah, yeah, stop being such a pussy,” the other mutters but Francis feels a dry towel on his face and hair, soaking up the water anyway.

“You okay?” Gilbert asks seriously and Francis opens his eyes and nods, though he should probably still wash them out with water as they still burn a little. Gilbert grins again and his hands grab Francis’s behind through his jacket. They don’t move.

“And yes, you do flaunt this. Especially around me.”

This makes Francis’s cheeks burn a little, not only because he loves to be touched there and knows Gilbert knows it, but because he had been flirting around the other lately and perhaps he wasn’t being subtle enough.

“Non,” he lies, “I am sure you are just staring at it entirely too much.”  Gilbert gives his bottom another hard squeeze and Francis gasps, leaning his head against the crook of the other’s neck.

“Nah, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you’ve been wanting me to do this,” he squeezes again, only France can feel a finger rubbing up his crack, and he shivers into the other’s touch, aroused,

“Am I right?”

“What if I have? If—ah!” He gasps when Gilbert gives a round smack to his behind and he feels heat spread through his veins and to his cock.

“If I get what I want and…nrg….you get what you want, I don’t see any shame in that.”

Gilbert looks amused and he brings up a hand to cup Francis’s chin. His red eyes glint mischievously.

“Who said anything about shame?” he asks and pulls the other in for a kiss. Although Francis had been expecting it, it is still shocking in a way to feel Gilbert’s tongue, hot and agile, push into his mouth. They don’t kiss very often (they were supposed to be only friends with benefits and kissing seemed to cross the line a little), but it’s hot and Francis allows the other to explore his mouth. It is too hard to concentrate, anyway, now that Gilbert’s hands have re-found their way to Francis’s ass and seem determined on grinding him against the German’s (or _Prussian’s_ as Gilbert would say) thigh.

Francis moans into the kiss, feeling himself fully harden, and gasps when Gilbert moves to bite his neck (he had always loved the other biting him, marking him).

“How ya wanna do this, birdie? I’d love to fuck ya, but we don’t have any lube. Or condoms,” he murmurs against Francis’s hot skin and Francis looks around the kitchen for something they can use. He grins when he spots olive oil sitting a counter away (though the chef in him cringes at such a waste) and points to it. Gilbert grins as well and goes over to grab it.

“I like your thinking, birdie.”

When he unscrews the bottle and unzips his trousers, Francis says,

“No, your fingers. I…I want your fingers. I’ll jack you off if you’d like.”

Gilbert stares at him a little and then shakes his head good-naturedly, “You’re so demanding.”

But he moves forward anyway and sets the olive oil down on the sink to undo Francis’s trousers as Francis takes off his apron and pushes up his jacket. Then oil-slick fingers slide down between his cheeks before one pushes through his entrance with little resistance at all. Francis shivers and rocks back against the feeling as his cock pulses with want. He outright moans when the other two enter, slowly stretching him open, grazing against his prostate teasingly. The fingers are knuckle deep by the time that Gilbert unzips himself and presses both of their dicks together and both of them hiss at the sensation.

Gilbert’s hand around them both is slick and all of the fingers inside Francis start pumping in and out of him with real effort, jabbing at his prostate, making him feel full and weak in the knees with pleasure. Francis is grinding against Gilbert’s cock in time with the thrusting and he decides to help and cups and strokes the other’s balls. It is entirely worth it to hear that moan followed by a stuttered curse of,

“F-fuckin’ bastard!”

Francis laughs breathlessly and tries not to pay attention to how heavy his cock is and how good those fingers feel, because if he does, he’ll come too soon and he wants this to last as long as possible. But it is very hard, with their slippery cocks grinding, covered in precum, and those fingers fucking him so, so well.

Surprisingly, it is Gilbert who comes first, with a yell, and his cum lands slick and hot against Francis’s stomach. (The sight of him achieving orgasm makes something warm coil in Francis’s gut, but he has no idea why). Gilbert’s flush deepens and he rests his head on his friend’s shoulder to continue the actions of his fingers until Francis comes as well.

They rest, not breaking apart, in silence for a moment that is surprisingly not awkward, just warm and sated and Francis is the first to speak.

“Gilbert…?”

The other groans, “What?”

“We have to finish cleaning.”

“No we don’t.”

Francis sighs into his neck, “Gilbert…”

“We can just keep fucking and fucking around and then go home and never come back.”

Francis laughs and shakes his head, though he would love to do what the other is suggesting.

“As tempting as that sounds, I would like a job tomorrow.”

“Humph! Fuck real world responsibilities.”

“I am sure you would if you could.”

For some reason, Francis doesn’t want to let go of the other, even though he knows they have work to do. The smell of the other makes his belly flip, but he pulls away reluctantly.

“Damn straight,” Gilbert says without any real bite behind it and for a moment, they find themselves staring at each other, wanting and breathless, but they each turn away to continue their work. And as Francis, light-headed and warm, dips his hands into the now cool water, he can’t help but think that this punishment might turn out okay.        


End file.
